How the Mighty Have Fallen
by PhantomTF
Summary: Optimus Prime suffers under the burden of leadership
1. Chapter One

How the Mighty Have Fallen

by Phantom

Continuity note: this takes place after "The Return of Optimus Prime". The Decepticons have discovered that Unicron had taken Megatron's mind and imput it into Galvatron's body, but he left Megatron's old body to float in space. The Decepticons successfully managed to replace Megatron/Galvatron's persona into his original body, where he quickly returned to his old self. Once out of Galvatron's body, Unicron's alterations, including the subsequent madness, were eliminated. However, Galvatron's unstable nature had taken its toll, and the Decepticons slowly lost ground to the Autobots. The Autobot funeral barge was discovered to have survived its crash, and many bodies were recovered and brought back to life, using Optimus Prime's expertise with the Matrix. The Decepticons continue to battle on both Cybertron and Earth. 

Chapter One 

Optimus Prime sighed in relief as the door to his office slid shut with an audible click. He was eager to relax and forget about the mounds of paperwork that still lay piled atop his desk. Leading the Autobots required many split-second decisions and improvisations, but much of his duties required lengthy paperwork. Fortunately, he thought to himself, he could come in early tomorrow and finish up. He had worked overtime for the last three days, and he was ready to take a well-deserved break. 

"Red Alert to Optimus Prime," his inter-Autobot radio crackled. 

"Prime here," he replied. 

"We're almost finished installing the new security system, but we need you to approve the new protocols." 

Prime sighed inwardly. "I'll be right there." He had never been one to shirk his duties. He didn't mind helping out his fellow Autobots, though it seemed that he would never have an evening to himself. 

- - - - -

Prime smiled to himself as he held Alita One close. Passion was written clearly on both of their faces. This was the time that Prime enjoyed most of all, when the physical and mental contact allowed him to let go completely, when no pretenses were required. He gasped as his fuel pump pounded, forcing his energon to run faster. "Oh, Alita," he murmured. 

She smiled at him as he shut his optics in pleasure. She whispered his name as they held each other closer. "Prime." His grip tightened as his air intakes forced in more oxygen. "Don't stop, Alita!" he said passionately. 

"Prime," she repeated. "Prime. Prime." 

"Prime! Are you there?" 

Prime shot up in bed, the call jerking him rudely from his sleep. "Prime here," he said a bit breathlessly, feeling cross at being disturbed. 

"Sorry to disturb you," Ultra Magnus told him, "but the security system just crashed and we have to get it up again before the Decepticons attack." 

"I'll be there soon. Prime out." 

He flopped back down on the energizing bed, trying to quiet the throbbing of his body. He glared at the empty side of his bed, which should have held Alita One. She had stayed with him in the Ark for a while, but the war had escalated on Cybertron again, so back she went to help her soldiers. Prime understood her dedication to her warriors, but he needed her too. 

He thought back upon his dream as he entered his private shower. The whitish solvent sprayed down on him, removing any dirt or particulate. He missed Alita One very much, and he had physical needs that weren't being fulfilled. Primus had given his creations what could be considered to be a mixed blessing. When the god had created the Transformers, he realized that using the Matrix as the sole means of procreation would prove draining on the crystallized portion of his life force. So he had created a dormant program within his creations. Primus had originally designed his creations to be asexual, but he soon realized that there was a natural attraction between the robust "male" robots and the slimmer "females". 

When the robots reached full maturity, the dormant program was activated. This program was modeled on the methods of intercourse of organic beings. The two robots in question made a physical connection, like a plug in a socket. When a certain level of enjoyment that accompanied mating was reached, the male robot released genetic information that combined with the information that the female carried. If conditions were right in the female body, the two programs would interact and provide a blueprint for a new life form, which would begin assembling itself in the female. After two months of bearing the life form, it would be removed from the female by an access panel in her belly area. After about a year, the child would be placed inside a special genetic tank, which would read blueprints stored inside the child and form an adult body. Since the war, and the near decimation of the female population, this method had not been used to birth a child in many millions of years. Primus observed with some amusement, however, that the mating process still took place for sheer enjoyment. 

Prime turned off the shower and stepped out, grateful for the fact that leadership had several perks, and one of them was a private shower. He valued his privacy very much, and was more than a little self-conscious. The thought of having to use the shower in front of others made him cringe. He hurriedly dried himself off and went to help out Ultra Magnus. 

- - - - -

"That should do it," said Wheeljack, straightening up and putting away his tools. "The security system should work flawlessly now." 

"That's good to hear," Prime told him. 

Wheeljack headed for the door, then turned around. "Oh, Prime, I need your approval for my new invention. It's a new type of energy converter." 

"Write up a report, and I'll look at it as soon as I get a chance." Wheeljack nodded and walked out. 

"Everything settled here?" Prime asked. Ultra Magnus, Kup, and Red Alert nodded. "Okay then, I'll leave you to your work. You know where to find me if you run into any trouble." 

Prime exited the room and headed towards his office. "Well, at least that's one thing out of the way," he thought. He glanced outside the main door as he passed it. The sun was just beginning to rise. He fought back a sort of yawn. He didn't mind missing some recharging time to help sort out difficulties that cropped up, but he had not had a decent night's peace in almost an Earth week. 

"There you are!" a voice exclaimed. Prime turned and saw Ratchet hurrying to catch up. 

"Here I am," Prime agreed good-naturedly. "How are you doing?" 

"I could use a bit more rest," Ratchet admitted, "but the repair of your warriors is just about finished. They'll be ready for combat in no time." 

"I wish they didn't have to fight at all," Prime commented, "but I suppose it can't be helped." 

Ratchet grinned. "Well, if the war didn't keep me busy with so many patients, I would be partying! Speaking of which, I think a party would be a good idea. I think it would be good for morale, and you could certainly use some fun." 

Prime thought it over for a moment. "That's really not a bad idea. Why don't you come up with the specifics and I'll make a decision. I have to make sure the party doesn't interfere with any briefings." 

Ratchet smiled in anticipation. "I had better see you there, mister! I won't take no for an answer!" 

Prime shook his head. "I don't know about that, Ratchet. I still have a lot of work to get done." 

"Aw, come on! You're practically chained to that desk. I'm sure Alita would be jealous. One night away from the office won't kill you." 

Prime sighed. "Yes, but everyone else will when they find out I haven't finished my work. I'll just have to wait and see." 

"Do that. 'Cause if you don't, I'll pay you back for it at your next exam! Speaking of which, you have one today." 

"I don't think I can make it, Ratchet." 

"Don't give me that, Prime." Ratchet wasn't about to take no for an answer. "Your health is of extreme importance. If something were to happen to you, it could spell disaster for all of us. If you don't report to the medical bay at 3:00 prime meridian Earth time, I may have to remove you from command." 

At least I'd have some peace and quiet, Prime thought half-seriously to himself. He knew that Ratchet wasn't serious about removing him from command, at least not over a simple check-up. However, the urgency in his chief medical officer's voice worried him. The Autobots looked up to him, seeing him as sort of demi-god who could cure all their problems. While he had grown to accept it, the thought that the Autobot army could fall apart without him was a chilling one indeed. 

"I'll do my best to be there, Ratchet. Satisfied?" 

Ratchet nodded reluctantly. "It will have to do." 

"See you then." Prime watched as his best friend walked away. He then headed down the hall to his office. As usual, he had work to do. 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two 

Prime gazed around the briefing room, assuring himself that everything was prepared. He checked the slide projector and his notes, which all seemed to be in order. He sat back in his enormous chair at the head of the table and awaited the arrival of his top Autobots. 

He blinked and shook his head rapidly as he felt his optic covers begin to close. The past few weeks of working late and waking early to deal with one crisis or another were beginning to take their toll. He made a mental promise to himself to seal himself inside his quarters for some much-needed recharging. But he had never found the time, and now his emergency recharging circuits were trying to override his primary program, since his energy levels had dropped too low. 

He jerked his head up violently, which had begun to nod towards his chest. He lifted his hands and roughly slapped his half-mask that covered his face. While the briefing was merely routine, it was still necessary to keep his braintrust up to date on events. Still, he did have several minutes until they arrived, and he was so tired... The thought barely had time to cross his neural nets, as his head lowered itself to his folded arms resting on the table and his optic covers slid into place. 

Several minutes later, the door creaked open and the Autobot braintrust entered the briefing room. 

"Hey, Prime, what's up?" Jazz asked cheerfully, then stopped short when he caught sight of his leader. 

"What's going on?" Red Alert asked. "Oh, dear!" he exclaimed when he saw Prime. "He's been murdered!" 

Ultra Magnus stifled a chuckle. "Don't be ridiculous, Red." He walked over to the sleeping form. Magnus used his fingers to feel for an electro-pulse at Prime's neck. "He's just fine." 

"If he's just fine, then why is he recharging instead of briefing us?" Jazz asked. 

Ratchet sighed. "He must be exhausted. I've been telling him to get some more rest for weeks. I didn't necessarily mean right now, of course, but he's so worn out he probably couldn't help it." 

"So what do we do now?" Prowl demanded. "Should we wake him up?" 

"Of course not!" Ratchet snapped. "Just let him recharge. Primus knows he needs it." 

Prowl opened his mouth to protest. "Shh!" Ratchet whispered. "Let's go." 

The group tiptoed out quietly. Ratchet turned out the lights and closed the door, turning on the red light that was always illuminated to warn others not to disturb the room's occupants. 

* * * * * 

Prime lifted up his head and peered around, only half-awake. He blinked several times and straightened up fully. He gasped as he realized that his emergency override program had engaged, forcing him to recharge. He consulted his internal chronometer, realizing with growing horror that the briefing should have taken place hours ago. "Oh, no," he groaned. "I'll have to reschedule it. When am I going to find time to do that? I've already got so much else to do." 

He looked around, noticing the darkened room. "They were already here. Oh, they're going to think I'm so lazy. I wish they had woken me up. Now what am I supposed to do?" 

He forced himself to calm down. He could always combine this briefing with the next one that he had scheduled. He hadn't anything very important to say, anyway. It would probably be a waste of time to drag everyone away from their duties. 

He walked out the door, turning off the outside red light. He was still berating himself for resting when he had responsibilities when another thought hit him. "Oh, no!" he cried, smacking his forehead. "I missed my appointment with Ratchet, too!" 

He picked up his pace, hurrying down the hall. Ratchet looked up as his leader rushed in. "Sorry I'm late," he said a bit breathlessly. 

"Have a nice nap?" Ratchet asked teasingly. 

Prime felt the heat rising in his face. "I can't believe I did that. Now I'm going to have to--" 

"You'll do nothing but climb onto the examining table," Ratchet interrupted sternly. 

"But--" 

"And no buts! Being the Autobot leader gives you no special privileges in here, mister! Now get moving!" Ratchet stared at him expectantly. 

"All right, all right," Prime said, smiling beneath his half-mask. He dutifully climbed onto the examining table and lay back. 

"Okay, let's see what's up with you," Ratchet muttered as he began the examination. He poked and prodded what seemed like every inch of Prime's form. "Structural integrity seems okay, same with hydraulic reflexes." He frowned suddenly. "Prime, your energy readings are a bit low. You'd better have some energon." 

He went over to a dispenser on the wall and withdrew a cube. "Drink up," he said, handing over the cube. 

Prime hesitated, but quickly complied. He had to admit that it tasted great as it gushed through porous openings in his half-mask and slid down a tube in his throat. Ratchet nodded in approval as he studied the energy readings. 

"Well, everything seems fine," he announced in satisfaction. "You can go now, but don't forget to stop by in two Earth weeks for another exam." 

"I'll be sure to do so," Prime replied. He stood and prepared to leave, but something held him back. He turned and asked, "Ratchet, do the others think badly of be because of what happened?" 

Ratchet waved his hand dismissively. "Of course not, Prime. They understood. I made it clear to them that you need your rest." 

Prime nodded slowly. He still didn't feel reassured. The pressure to perform, to command flawlessly and never make a mistake rose up in him. He suddenly felt suffocated by his responsibilities. He had never been one to share his feelings openly, probably because he had been leader for so long and had grown used to the intense privacy and isolation. Perhaps it was time to alleviate some of that isolation. Perhaps he needed to talk to someone... 

"Ratchet, can I talk to you for a minute?" Prime asked hesitatingly, unsure of the response. While Ratchet was his best friend, Prime was used to being regarded with respect and awe that verged on worship. The doubts and troubles that he was about to voice were almost blasphemous. 

"Sure, Prime--" Ratchet began. He was cut off by a large explosion that sounded outside the Ark. Cries of pain were heard, and several minutes later Sideswipe and Mirage limped in. 

"My second home," Sideswipe joked as he dragged himself in painfully. Fluid seeped from his wounds. 

Ratchet sprang into action, grabbing his tools and making his way over to the injured duo. "Just when I finally take care of all my patients, a battle like this happens, and the repair bay fills up again." He paused when he saw Prime standing next to him with a disappointed look. "Sorry, Prime. Maybe we can talk later." 

Prime shook his head slowly, feeling his burdens pressing down on him even more. "Don't worry about it. It wasn't very important anyway." He hurried out of the medical bay as another explosion was heard. 

A full-blown battle greeted him as he stepped outside. It was the same players in the same tired old formation. "What do you want this time, Megatron?" he called to his arch-foe. 

"Want?" Megatron sneered. "I want you, Prime! Out of the way, that is." He fired his fusion cannon. Prime ducked out of the way, the blast just barely missing him. 

"Those years as Galvatron must have decayed your neural nets, Megatron!" Prime replied, firing a blast from his own weapon. "Stop this senseless violence!" Prime knew that Megatron was a reasonable being, and that his period of being Galvatron had not changed that. 

"Nice try, Prime," Megatron chucked. "But you know that it is our destiny to rule. You also know that I cannot allow you to stand in our way." 

Prime's gears ground in frustration. "Don't you ever learn, Megatron?" He was so tired of hearing the same excuses, tired of fighting the endless battles. As Autobot leader, he had gone through this scenario many times, and had been brought back to life only to go through it again. 

"Apparently not, Prime," Megatron replied. "It seems that you don't learn very much, either." He ducked as a stray blast flew overhead. He fired his fusion cannon at a group of Autobots nearby. "It seems that we've had this conversation before. Come now, Optimus, you know that fighting us will solve nothing. You are a worthy foe. There is a place for you in our empire as well. If only you would join me, we could do so much together." 

"I'm sick of this!" Prime announced suddenly. "I'm sick of this endless warfare, I'm sick of the same prattling, and most of all I'm sick of you!" He lowered his weapon and launched himself at his enemy. Megatron gasped in surprise as Prime landed on top of him and began raining blows. 

"What's gotten into you, Prime?" he asked in confusion. "I've never known you to be so impulsive." 

Prime hesitated for a moment, his fist in front of Megatron's face. "You're right. I hate to admit it, but you are." 

Megatron shoved him off abruptly. "Come, my Decepticons! This battle is pointless and will win us nothing. The Autobots refuse to see reason. We will retreat and fight again another day." 

Cyclonus nodded with approval. It was good to have a leader who knew when to stop fighting. "Decepticons, let us leave this place," he agreed. 

"Another day, Prime," Megatron murmured to him. "Perhaps then you will see the truth behind our cause." He launched himself in the air and was gone. 

Prime turned around slowly, seeing his warriors gaping at him. He suddenly realized how foolish he must seem to them, attacking Megatron on impulse alone. Such behavior was understandable from Rodimus, but they expected higher standards from him. 

"Way to go, Prime!" Jazz yelled. "You sure caught ol' Meggy off-balance!" The others cheered their support as well. 

Prime shook his head in disbelief. They've done it again, he thought. They took a foolhardy move on his part to be some brilliant strategy from a faultless, perfect leader. In their eyes, he could do no wrong. This was all well and good -- crucial, in fact, since he needed their unwavering loyalty to defeat the Decepticons, but he didn't have to like it. It only raised his own standards, putting him under even more pressure. His attack on Megatron was borne mostly out of frustration and the necessity of relieving the crushing pressure put upon him. And if he didn't find some way to relieve the pressure building on him, he knew that he would snap. 


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three 

Prime strode briskly down the hall, heading towards the command center. The Autobots nodded at him as he entered. Magnus walked over to him as he stopped in front of Teletran One's large screen. 

"Is it time to contact Cybertron?" Magnus asked him. Prime nodded. Magnus gestured to the Autobots working in the room, who quickly exited. Magnus smiled as he left also. 

Prime shook his head as he established a link with the communications equipment on Cybertron. Alita's form appeared on the screen as the link formed. In the background, Prime could see the robots elbowing each other suggestively as they left the room. He smiled to himself. These chats with Alita were supposed to concern business matters only, but their warriors assumed otherwise and gave them privacy. Prime appreciated the gesture, especially since their talks were infrequent, and it gave him freedom to voice his personal feelings without embarrassment. 

"Hello, Alita," he said softly. She smiled at him. 

"Hello, Prime," she replied. "How is the war going?" 

"The Decepticons made another attack today, but it was successfully repelled. I think we are making slow but sure progress," Prime told her. 

She nodded. "I feel the same way. The Decepticons still desire conquest, but we have slowly gained the upper hand." 

"Let's hope it stays that way," Prime said fervently. "So, how are things with you?" he asked on a personal level. 

Her optics turned sad. "I miss you, Prime. I feel empty without you by my side, and my recharging bed feels cold without you there." 

"I feel the same way," Prime sighed. "I wish we could be together for once. I wish that our positions in the Autobot army didn't force us apart." 

She smiled reassuringly. "Well, the war is calming down a little, and the battles are not so fierce here. Perhaps soon I will be able to join you." 

Prime looked quite happy, but then an air of melancholy descended on him. "I wish to Primus that were true. But I know too well the demands that are put upon us." 

Alita frowned at him. "You sound as if something's bothering you, Prime." 

Prime hesitated, uncertain. Should he tell her of his worries? He didn't want to worry her, but then again he did need to talk to someone, and Alita was more than just a lover, she was one of his best friends. "Yes, Alita, there is something bothering me." 

Alita nodded for him to continue. "I'm listening. Please tell me what's troubling you." 

Prime inhaled through the air intakes behind his half-mask. "Well, sometimes I feel--" 

"Decepticons!" came a cry from the corridor behind Alita's command center. The sound of missiles impacting on their targets came soon afterward. 

"Damn it!" Alita yelled. "Won't they ever quit?" She turned back to the screen and gazed sadly at her love. "I'm sorry, Prime," she said softly, "but I'm needed now. We'll talk again soon." 

"It wasn't that important, Alita. Don't worry about it." Once again, Prime lost the courage to speak of his problems. Alita's responsibilities came first, he reminded himself. His problems were secondary. 

"I'll speak to you soon, Prime. Alita out." She broke off communications. 

Prime sighed to himself as he turned off the screen. He certainly seemed to be sighing a lot these days. He knew that he would not get the chance to communicate with Alita for several weeks, unless something major occurred. Communication with Cybertron was risky, since the Decepticons might be able to intercept the messages. Besides, Alita's time was important, and he didn't want to waste it by burdening her with his problems. 

He exited the command center, passing by a cluster of Autobots in the hall, who entered the room and resumed their stations. He stared at Magnus' back as his friend walked by. Magnus was an old, trusted friend. Perhaps he could ... no, he couldn't talk to Magnus. Magnus seemed to be somewhat in awe of him, and he had enough doubts of his own. Prime didn't want to make Magnus feel even more insecure by telling him his own problems. 

He wandered through the halls, not quite ready to enter his office and resume his work. He paused outside the recreation room and gazed inside. There were several Autobots inside, relaxed, enjoying their time off duty. How he envied them. How he wished that he could just walk in and sprawl on one of the massive sofa-type chairs, a container of high-grade energon in his hand. He wished that he could hold a simple conversation without the other robot shifting around uncomfortably, no doubt feeling that he was being judged and had to live up to an expectation. 

Once, he had been able to do all those things. Once he had been Orion Pax. He had been affable and easy to get along with, and was rewarded by many close friends. He could drink high-grade energon with the best of them, and often won many chugging contests. Prime smiled in amusement as he recalled his youth. But all that had changed. He could never go back to the carefree, spirited youth that he had once been. He had seen too much violence, had too much lifefuel on his hands. 

Prime spotted Smokescreen in animated discussion with Powerglide. He had given Smokescreen a special job many millions of years ago, a job that he knew he could not do alone. Even back then, he knew that he was isolated from his Autobots. He wanted to alleviate their worries and help them with their problems, but his position put a barrier between them. He entrusted Smokescreen with the task of serving as a sort of counselor, helping the Autobots sort through their problems. What would Smokescreen think if Prime approached him with his own problems? Would Smokescreen think he was weak, that he wasn't fit to command? Perhaps not, but Prime wasn't particularly close to Smokescreen, and knew he would have difficulty giving voice to his problems. 

Smokescreen looked up and spotted Prime in the doorway. "Prime!" he exclaimed in surprise. Prime never came down to the recreation room. Blaster looked up with a guilty expression and removed his feet from the table. Sunstreaker quickly hid his container of high-grade energon behind his back. Everyone in the room had made some sort of effort to straighten up at the sight of their leader. 

"Sorry to disturb you. I was just passing by," Prime told them and walked away. He felt worse than ever. He certainly was aware of what went on in the rec room. He knew that robots put their feet on the table and drank high-grade energon. He wouldn't condemn their actions; on the contrary, he would gladly join them if they would have him. But such a thing was not meant to be. Just the sight of him made them nervous, as if they were doing something wrong and would be punished. 

Prime avoided the gaze of those that he passed as he headed down the hall to his quarters. He had never felt more alone. He knew that he was about to do something very dangerous, something that he had always preached against. He couldn't believe that he was even considering it, but his responsibilities rested on his shoulders like a ton of bricks, and he was desperate. He just prayed that he would be strong enough to resist the temptation. 


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four 

Prime entered his quarters and sealed the security lock on the door with shaking hands. He crossed the room to his desk and stood there for several minutes, engaged in a furious battle with his conscience. 

"I must be going crazy!" he thought to himself. "I can't believe I'm even considering what I'm about to do." 

"No, I'm not crazy, but I soon will be if I don't find a way to relieve myself of my problems," he answered his own argument. 

"But you can't do this!" his conscience raged at him. "It's against everything you've ever believed in." 

Prime reached into his desk drawer and slowly withdrew a joint of Enerweed. He had confiscated it several days ago and had fully intended to turn it over to Prowl. But somehow his subconscious had taken control and compelled him to take possession of it himself. Now he knew why. 

"I can't take it anymore! I need to escape my problems somehow!" he raged out loud. 

But the maddening voice of his conscience would not be silenced. "But you know this is not the answer. Your problems will be waiting for you tomorrow. Doing this will solve nothing. Besides, what will the others think of you if you do this? What would they think if they caught their leader doing drugs?" 

Something deep inside of Prime snapped. "I don't care what they think any more!" he cried out. "To hell with them! May Unicron take their souls!" With that, he lit the Enerweed joint. 

He reached up with a trembling hand towards the half-mask that covered his face. He grasped it and slowly pulled downwards, removing it. No one but him and Alita knew that the lower half of his face could be removed, revealing a regular mouth like most Transformers had. The mask was quite useful for hiding his expressions, but it would be a hinderance for what he was about to do. 

He stared at the joint, mesmerized, as the smoke curled upward. As if in a trance, he brought it closer to his mouth. His fingers began to shake. Feeling a black despair falling over him, he put the Enerweed joint in his mouth and slowly inhaled through his air intakes. 

"Mmm, not bad," he thought to himself. He half-expected the floor to swallow him up and deliver him to Unicron, where he would be punished for eternity for his sin. When this did not come to pass, he shakily drew another breath. The Enerweed smoke spread through his systems, relaxing him. 

"Ah, much better," he sighed, feeling his tension drain away. He was feeling better by the minute. It was becoming harder and harder to think. "Why think?" he asked himself. There was really nothing to think about. He happily let his thoughts trail off. 

He walked over to his recharging bed and sprawled out, taking long drags on his joint. He never imagined that drugs would make him feel this way. He felt as light as a feather, as if he could fly. 

"Optimus Prime, come in." 

Prime jumped in surprise, nearly dropping the joint. "Uh... Prime here," he gasped out. 

Magnus replied, "The security system is functioning flawlessly. I thought you'd like to be informed." 

Prime struggled to push aside the murk that surrounded his mind. "Um... thank you, uh, Magnus. Listen, I'm not feeling very well tonight. Could you, erm, route my, uh, comlink to you so that I can rest undisturbed?" 

"Certainly, Prime," Magnus replied, a note of worry in his voice. "Are you going to be all right? You sound terrible." 

"Uh, sure, I'm sure I'll be fine tomorrow. Just need to recharge a little more. Ratchet's orders, you know." Prime prayed that he'd accept the explanation. 

Apparently Magnus was convinced. "You just concentrate on getting better, Prime. You know how much we need you. Magnus out." 

Prime let out a hugh sigh of relief. Thank Primus he bought it. He looked at the joint in his hand. It was almost gone. He lay back and took drag after drag until there was nothing left. 

He lay back and relaxed for a while, feeling a silly smile spread itself across his face. He felt great! He couldn't imagine why he hadn't tried this before. 

He sat up, looking around the room. The colors seemed so bright, so vivid. He turned his head, and the colors seemed to blend together with the motion. "Wow," he murmured. Even his voice was different. 

He began to giggle. It was such a stupid sound that it made him giggle some more. It felt good to giggle, very good indeed. It had been so long since he had felt happy. 

His gaze fell upon his music diskettes. He stood up, a bit unsteadily, and made his way over to them. He thumbed through them briskly. "Boring, boring, boring. How could I be so boring?" All of the music was conservative. There was nothing remotely exciting. He was in the mood for something different. 

He reached over and turned on his transponder. This radio was capable of intercepting and transmitting communications. It also had the ability to receive Earthen radio stations across the globe. Usually Prime did not listen to the stations, because he could not make sense of the lyrics. All that would change tonight. 

"Oh, wow!" he exclaimed, having difficulty speaking. He could understand the lyrics, to some extent. "'Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage.'" He laughed. He moved the dial around, listening to the jumble of sounds that poured forth. He found a Spanish station and laughed hysterically. The nonsensical babble was very amusing to him. Normally he could understand Spanish, or any other language, since the Transformers had the ability to assimilate most unknown languages into their neural nets and decipher it. This was the reason that they were able to speak English upon awakening. However, the Enerweed had infiltrated that section of his neural net, making the lesser-used languages incomprehensible to him. He retained his knowledge of English only because of his frequent use of it. 

He stopped turning the dial, listening closely. He nodded his head to each beat of this new song. "I am Iron Man!" the radio declared. "I am Iron Man!" Prime repeated. This statement elicited another fit of giggles. Well, it was true, he was a sort of Iron Man. 

Prime began to spin around and around, enjoying the swirl of colors that crossed his vision. His equilibrium circuits could not compensate for such movement, and he crashed down to the floor with a bang. He lay there for quite some time, enjoying the sensation of his body lying on the floor. 

Finally he climbed to his feet, holding on to the corner of his bed to keep his balance as his equilibrium circuits struggled to relocate their proper setting. "What should I do now?" he wondered. He really wanted to go out and find something fun to do, but something held him back. He knew that it would all be over if he let anyone see him this way. 

He stretched, extending his arms high above his head. It felt wonderful to let the barriers down in his mind, to drain away the tension and allow his thoughts to flow uncensored. "Hm, wish I had some issues of Playbot," he mused. Alita had once promised to get him some, but he had been too embarrassed to say yes. "On second thought, forget the magazines. I wish Alita herself was here. I could certainly have a fun time with her!" He grinned at the bed, where they had had some "fun times" before. 

He walked over to his desk and sat down. "Might as well get some work done." He giggled at this. Even though he was getting high for the first time, he still had to do work. "Let's see. I think I'll write an appraisal of our security network. Hm. 'Security sucks!' Yeah, that's it! What else? 'Defense sucks too.' Hey, this isn't so bad!" He continued this way for a while writing his little "appraisals" up until it began to bore him. 

Suddenly his air intakes let out a sigh of air not unlike a yawn. He was beginning to come down from his high. "No," he muttered. "Please no. I don't want to remember." He crawled onto the bed and lay there huddled against the bad memories, against the demands on him that would return the next day. He drifted off into unconsciousness with a feeling of dread at what the next day would bring. 


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five 

"No. Oh, Primus, no. Please tell me I didn't do what I did last night!" 

Prime lay back on the bed, awash in guilt. He had gone against what he had always preached, what he had taught others and what he had fervently believed himself. He knew that drugs were not a way out, that they would only compound his problems. Yet he had acted like a fool. He had taken the Enerweed, and now his conscious would not let him forget it. 

He rolled over and buried his face in his hands. "I can't face anyone today," he groaned. "I feel so stupid. I acted so stupidly. How could I have been so stupid?" 

"No," he told himself, "I have to get up. I have to make up for the mistake I made last night." He slowly arose from the bed. On his way to the shower he passed his desk. He reached out and picked up his half-mask, inserting it in place. The document he had written last night caught his eye. 

"This is terrible!" he exclaimed as he looked it over. "Most of the words aren't even spelled right. And I would never use such language. This stuff screwed with my mind. I am definitely never, never going to touch that stuff again. Or anything else like it." He thought back to the events of the previous night with a sense of revulsion. 

"I hate myself," he whispered. "The Autobots deserve a better leader than me." 

"Oh, great, now you're feeling sorry for yourself!" his conscious exclaimed. "I don't think so, pal. You're going out there, and you're going to make up for last night." 

"Okay, okay," he muttered. The worst part was that he had actually enjoyed himself last night. It had felt so good to let go, to drop all barriers and forget responsibilities. Primus help him, it had felt so good to forget. He braced himself mentally, for he knew his problems were about to get a whole lot worse. 

* * * * * 

Prime sat glumly at his desk, listening to the faint beat of music. Ratchet was ecstatic, since he had finally gotten permission for his party. He had pestered Prime to join him, but Prime was not in a partying mood. He already had his own party for one last night, and his conscience was making him pay the price. 

"Hey, Prime, what're you doing here?" asked a voice. Prime lifted his head from his hands. 

"Huh? Oh, Sideswipe. I couldn't attend Ratchet's party. I've got too much to do here." 

Sideswipe shook his head. "Man, I'm sure glad I'm not the leader. Guys like me want to have fun once in a while." 

Prime felt his turbulent feelings boiling over. "Look, Sideswipe--" he began. Fortunately, he was saved from lashing out by the next song that wafted down the hall. 

"Oh, the Macarena!" Sideswipe exclaimed. "I love this song! I'd better go join the guys and get in line to dance!" He danced off down the hall, gesturing with his arms and singing, "Hey, Macarena!" 

This sight brought a small smile to Prime's face beneath his mask. However, his pressures soon returned in full force. "Just once I'd like to attend one of those parties. But I never really fit in. Rodimus may have had his problems while leading, but at least he remembered what it was like to cut loose and fit in with the rest of the troops. And the others understood when he lost control of his temper, since they knew that he was still a bit brash. Sometimes I can barely keep from snapping at people. But if I let my anger get the better of me, I'd spend the rest of the day apologizing and trying to make up for the damage, while trying to appease my conscience at the same time." 

Prime's thoughts were once again interrupted. "Hey, Prime!" Jazz greeted him. "Aren't you going to join the party?" 

"No!" Prime snapped. The shocked expression on Jazz's face instantly made him feel guilty. "I'm sorry, Jazz. I still have a lot of work left to do, and it's making me a bit edgy." 

Jazz nodded. "No problem, Prime. You should try to relax. You know, lighten up a bit. Well, I'm off to the party again. Catch you later!" 

Prime stared at his retreating back. "'Lighten up a bit,'" he mocked. "That'll be the day. Oh, Primus, what am I thinking? He's my friend, and I'm making fun of him for worrying about me! I'm a terrible person." He clenched his fists in frustration. 

There was a knock at the door. Prime looked up with an angry gleam in his optics. "No, I'm not going to the party," he said slowly and dangerously. 

Wheeljack looked at him in surprise. "I wasn't going to ask if you were. Now then, I've got another invention in the works. It's all written down right here. I just need you to look it over and approve it so I can get started." 

Prime momentarily lost all ability to speak. "...Another one?" he managed to choke out. 

"Yes, of course, Prime," Wheeljack replied. "And by the way, I still need your approval on my last invention." 

Prime felt as if he were seeing Wheeljack through a long, dark tunnel. His chest heaved, as if trying to cast aside a crushing burden. He prepared his vocal circuits to scream out, to finally yell to Wheeljack that he never wanted to hear about his damn inventions again, but all he could manage was, "I'll get right on it, Wheeljack." 

Wheeljack looked satisfied. "I need them by tomorrow so that I can start their construction. Let me know when you've got them ready. Goodbye," he called and walked out. 

Prime sat there for several minutes, trying to force oxygen to his air filters past the crushing pressure on his chest. "He needs it by tomorrow? So does everyone else here! I can't possibly do it all! I can't!" His voice rose rapidly. "I can't take it anymore!" 

He stood up, pushing his chair back violently, so that it collided with the wall behind him. "I'm sick of work!" he yelled, shoving the piles of paper off his desk. "I never want to see it again! And most of all, I'm sick of being leader!" The pressure in him built and built, like carbonation in a bottle of soda, seeking a way out. And just like those bubbles, when shaken up so much that they could not take any more, they found their own release by exploding outward. 

Prime flung his head back and let out a cry of sheer torment. He could feel his vision growing dim. All he knew now was that there were bad things in his head, bad thoughts, and he wanted to escape them. He curled up in a ball on the floor and let his mind withdraw from reality. He sighed with relief as everything went black. 


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six 

"What's wrong with him, Ratchet?" Alita asked fearfully. She had wasted no time in seeking out the Chief Medical Officer when she arrived on Earth. 

"It's hard to say for sure, but I believe that Prime has suffered a nervous breakdown, or came very close to one. I checked him out just yesterday, and physically, he was fine." Ratchet pause. "However, he did seem disturbed about something that he wanted to talk to me about. Unfortunately, the Decepticons attacked before he could elaborate." 

Alita nodded, understanding too well. "He needed to talk to me about something too, but the Decepticons interrupted us. He insisted that it wasn't important, but you know him. He always puts his needs last." 

"Yes," Ratchet agreed sadly. "And look where it's gotten him." He gazed at Alita, afraid of voicing his next thought. "Alita, I ran an in-depth analysis of him and found something rather disturbing." 

"What is it?" Alita asked, not entirely successful in keeping the worry out of her voice. 

Ratchet held up a vial containing a sample of Prime's lifefuel. "I took a sample of his fuel to analyze, and the results aren't good. I found traces of, well, of drugs." 

"Prime's been taking drugs!" Alita exclaimed in shock. 

Ratchet shook his head. "I know. I can't believe it either. There is one good thing, though. The traces were low, he can't have taken very much. No evidence of drugs has shown up in any prior fuel analyses I made on him over the past few months. So I feel safe in saying he isn't addicted, as of yet." 

Alita looked only slightly relieved. "I want to talk to him. When will he wake up?" 

Ratchet sighed. "It's hard to tell when he will regain consciousness. The mental pressure is what caused him to retreat in the first place. He may not be ready to return to us just yet." 

Alita crossed the room to the medical bed that held her mate. "Prime," she whispered, taking his hand. "Please come back to us. I love you so much. Whatever is bothering you, I'm here to help. Please, Prime." She broke off as a sob welled up in her throat. 

Prime slowly opened his optic covers and gazed at her sadly. "I'm sorry, Alita. I let you down. I let all the Autobots down." 

"Hush," Alita told him. "Blaming yourself won't help one bit. Just lay back and concentrate on getting better." Ratchet smiled and left the room, leaving the couple alone. 

"I guess you know about the Enerweed," Prime said, closing his optics in shame. "It was only one joint, and it was the first time I had taken it. I know that's no excuse." 

She squeezed his hand. "It doesn't matter now, Prime. I'm here, and you won't need drugs to relieve your tension any more. I've made arrangements to stay here, for good. Magnus can take over for me on Cybertron. I think he was starting to miss our home planet anyway. We've been apart for too long as it is, and it's high time we pulled rank and stationed ourselves at the same base." 

"You're going to stay?" This should have made Prime delirious with joy. But this was not the case. He felt the old guilt rising up in him once more. "Alita, you shouldn't have to transfer on my account. I'll be fine, really." 

"Don't give me that, Prime!" she said sternly. "I'm doing this for me too. For us. I want to be with you, whether you need me or not." Prime smiled faintly. Alita saw it in his optics and was pleased. 

Prime gazed at her sadly. "Alita, I know you've come a long way, and I'm very pleased to see you, but if you don't mind, I need to be alone right now." 

Alita couldn't quite hide the sadness that rose up in her. "Of course, Prime. I understand." 

"Please send in Hot Rod to see me. He'll have to lead until I'm back on my feet again, you're settled in, and Magnus has departed for Cybertron." 

"I'll do that. You just lay back and rest." Alita kissed the cheek of his metal mask and walked out of the medical bay. 

* * * * * 

"You wished to see me?" a voice asked hesitantly. 

"Yes, Hot Rod, come in." Prime beckoned to him. Hot Rod stepped over to the bed, unsure of what to do. The sight of his leader looking so worn twisted at his soul. He sat down in a nearby chair and leaned forward. 

"I suppose you need me to lead again," Hot Rod spoke. 

Prime gazed up at him solemnly. "You are correct. This will only be temporary, of course. Alita will need help settling in and adjusting to our chain of command, and Magnus will need help in preparation for his transfer. I'll be back on my feet again soon, and--" He broke off in surprise as Hot Rod reached out with his hand, pushing him gently back down on the bed. 

"Don't you worry about it, Prime," Hot Rod told him. "Just take your time in getting well. You need a break from all the stress." 

Prime scrutinized the youth in front of him. Although he was physically the same, Hot Rod had matured since his stint as leader of the Autobots. That maturity had remained, although the Matrix had been removed from him. Prime felt like he was seeing the youth with new eyes. 

"I'm ready to accept my duties," Hot Rod said solemnly. Prime nodded, his hands reaching for his chest. The panels there swung open at his mental command, allowing him to reach in and withdraw the Matrix. The room was bathed in a soft blue glow. "Lead well, Rodimus Prime." Rodimus reached out cautiously, taking hold of the Matrix and drawing it close to his chest. His chest panel opened, and he placed the Matrix inside. Both robots' chest panels closed with a sense of finality. 

Prime watched in astonishment as Hot Rod's body expanded, maturing before his eyes. He instinctively knew, though, that the change was only physical. Inside, Hot Rod had always remained Rodimus Prime, despite his return to his smaller form after Prime had returned. 

Rodimus gazed down at his former leader. He could understand all too well what had happened to Prime. Rodimus had felt the incredible pressures of leadership, too. While Prime had become accustomed to them, it was true, the pressure had probably built for many years and, without any means of relief, overwhelmed him. Rodimus realized that he may be the only one to truly realize what Prime had gone through. Not even Alita had felt this pressure. It was this unique understanding that prompted him to speak. "Would you like to talk about it?" 

Prime looked up at him in surprise. Rodimus had been among those that regarded him as perfect. The fact that he was now providing Prime with a sympathetic ear showed that he understood the burdens of leadership, and that Prime was only mortal and could not bear the strain by himself. Hot Rod had certainly come a long way. Prime now regarded Rodimus as an equal, someone who could truly understand him. He spoke the words that he could not bring himself to say to anyone after waking up in the med bay, not even to Ratchet or Alita. "Yes, Rodimus, I need to talk about it." 

Rodimus nodded. "I thought so. I would have sold my soul to Unicron to have someone to really talk to when I was leading." He knew what Prime really needed, what would help him even more than a heart-to-heart talk. He leaned forward and placed his hand on his leader's shoulder. 

Prime was frozen for a moment, almost in shock that what he truly needed was being freely offered by one so young, yet who had become so wise. His shock dissolved, and he slowly opened a mental link between them. 

Rodimus held onto Prime's shoulder tightly, reeling slightly as he felt the tension and stress that had built up within his friend. "Let it out," he whispered, knowing how badly Prime needed to release the pressure within and cleanse his spirit. They stayed like that for a long time, Rodimus giving his friend comfort, and Optimus gratefully receiving it. 

Finally Prime stirred and broke the mental link. He said with some embarrassment, "I'm sorry to have dumped that on you." 

"Nonsense," Rodimus reassured him. "That outburst was long overdue. Don't worry, I understand. I'm just glad I could be here for you." 

"You're a true friend, Rodimus," Optimus murmured. In a spontaneous human gesture he reached out to Rodimus, hugging him gratefully. 

A giggle came from the doorway. "I didn't know your tastes ran that way, Prime. Kinky." 

Prime sat up and felt heat rising to his face at the implication. "Alita, we were just--" 

"I know," she laughed. "It's too bad, though. I would have liked to see what happened. Rodimus would have kept me on my toes." 

Rodimus grinned at her. "You better hold on to him tight, or I may steal him away from you." 

Prime looked absolutely bewildered. "I don't believe you two!" he exclaimed. They started laughing at his comical expression. After a moment, he gave in and laughed too. 

"It feels so good to laugh," Prime remarked as Alita approached the bed. Rodimus stood and let her have his seat. He smiled as they held hands. 

"I have decided on my first command," he announced. "As soon as you are well, Prime, I order you and Alita to take a vacation together." He grinned at their astonished expression. "Don't disobey me now." 

"Thanks, Rodimus," Prime whispered. 

Alita leaned over with a mischievous look on her face. "We can start enjoying ourselves right now." She ran her hand suggestively up the top half of Prime's leg. 

"Alita! I don't believe you!" Prime gasped. He had to laugh at her persistence. 

Alita grinned knowingly at Rodimus, who grinned back. "Please excuse us, Rodimus," Alita said. "We need our privacy now." 

"Wait, Rodimus!" Prime protested as he turned to leave. "You don't really have to go! She's just kidding! Aren't you, Alita?" She smiled and bent down to give him a passionate kiss. 

As Rodimus' chuckle drifted back to him, Prime knew that everything was going to turn out just fine. 

The End 


End file.
